


Naked Silence

by einfach_mich



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP, hairporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/einfach_mich/pseuds/einfach_mich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a drabble bit of nonsense I wrote for a friend. Its main purpose was to be hairporn, but then it kinda got away from me and became angsty meta. Still in the end it’s pretty much PWP. So don’t expect a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naked Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngstGoddess003](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngstGoddess003/gifts).



“I may have left you in charge while I was gone, but I didn’t say you could...” Derek froze, mid-rant, his eyes locked on Stiles, who had just walked through the door.

Stiles glanced up from his phone, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow and half smirk. Scott was on his tip-toes, the front of her t-shirt entangled in Derek’s white-knuckled fist. The scene wasn’t that unusual, but the look of shock and confusion on Derek’s face made it new and kind of funny.

“What weirdo werewolf crap are you two up to now?” Stiles walked over, tucking his phone in his back pocket and lightly slapped at Derek’s hand. 

Derek lowered Scott, and pulled his hand away like he’d been stung by the gentle contact. “What the fuck did you do to your hair?” 

“Huh?” Stiles ran his hand through his messy hair, and gave it a little tug. “Oh, yeah. My shaver broke after a certain werewolf experimented with manscaping.”

“Dude, you promised you wouldn’t tell anyone,” Scott groaned and tried to smooth the wrinkles in the front his shirt, failing utterly. 

“Correction, I promised not to tell Allison.” Stiles gave Scott an affectionate bump with his shoulder and turned back to see Derek still staring at him.

“Stop it!” He snapped, while keeping a playful grin on his face, because he didn’t need Derek to tear his shirt.

Derek shook his head and made a strange huffing sound. “I’ve...got things,” He muttered and headed toward the door. 

Stiles watched him go, and took a mildly sadistic glee in noticing how stiff and uncomfortable Derek was acting. Like each step was a bit of a fight and he kept glancing at Stiles over his shoulder. Then would shake his head, as if embarrassed he had been caught looking. 

Once the door to Scott’s house slammed shut Stiles turned to his friend and sighed. “Werewolves.”

“Hey, we’re not all like that,” Scott argued, still fussing with his wrinkled t-shirt. “He’s just pissed that I’ve been letting you hang out with the pack while he was gone.”

“What the fuck is it to him?” All the humor drained from the situation and Stiles returned his gaze to the closed door, wishing he’d torment Derek more before he left.

“I don’t know, he said something about not putting you in danger,” Scott muttered, while walking toward the stairs, but Stiles was busy staring at the closed door. “I’m going to grab a fresh shirt and then we can head over to Alison’s.”

Stiles took a deep breath, shook his head and then jogged toward the front door. “Never mind, man. I need to run some errands.” 

“But I thought we were all going to grab dinner,” Scott said, standing on the stairs with a stunned look. 

“Rain check.” He gave Scott a dismissive wave and ran out the door. 

Derek was already in his car, the engine revving. Stiles was sure he was going to get a face full of gravel, but he ran toward the car anyway. Fuck it, he thought. 

“Hey!” He made it to the driver-side window and rapped his knuckles against the glass. 

Derek turns his head to look at Stiles through the window, his dark sunglasses making it hard for Stiles to read his expression. He waits for Derek to roll down the window, but all he gets is a raised eyebrow. This shit could go on all day, and Stiles doesn’t have the patience to deal with Derek’s pouting. He walks around the front of the car and opens the passenger door. 

“What are you doing?” The sneer in Derek’s voice is hard to miss, but it doesn’t stop Stiles from getting into the care and closing the door. 

“You better go before we have to explain to Scott why we’re sitting in here together,” Stiles said, while buckling his seatbelt and relaxes into the plush leather seat. 

Derek grumbles under his breath, but quickly puts the car in gear and peels out. Much to his dissatisfaction Stiles is unfazed by the speed and slight fishtailing of the car. His calm only serving to irritate Derek even more. 

“Turn here, Henderson will take us right to Colman’s gully.” Stiles said, lifting his foot to put it on the dashboard.

“I know where I’m going,” Derek replied, yanked on the wheel to take the turn and slapped Stiles’ foot down.

Stiles just smiled and tugged his hair, like he knows how it affected Derek. Which of course he does. Little smart ass knows exactly how every single thing he does gets under Derek’s skin. 

He knows how being away for a month was slow, horrible torture. Too many nights they spent exchanging pointless, casual text messages. Most of which consisted of crude jokes, insults and name calling. Neither one of them ever said what didn’t need to be said. 

Even now, while they were alone in the relative privacy of his car they didn’t speak about it. They didn’t need to. It just was. They were a fact. 

Derek steered the car onto the secluded dirt road, only taking them far enough in to be out of sight of the main road. Once they were hidden he put the car in park and turned off the engine. 

Stiles slid his hand down between the door and his seat, clicking the lever to recline his seat. He placed his hands behind his head and settled his gaze on Derek, who was doing his best to keep his eyes on the darkened woods beyond the windshield. It was a little game they played. A battle of wills. One that Derek rarely wins, but he still resisting. 

Maybe because he hated how weak he was in these moments and how smug Stiles had become because of it. He reveled in Derek’s need for him, like a spoiled brat. 

“How long have you been back?” Derek didn’t have to look at Stiles to know that there was a smirk on the kids face. 

“A few hours ago,” he answered, shifting back in his seat in a vain attempt to relax, but it was no use.

“And the first thing you do is go to bitch at Scott?” Two mud-crusted sneakers appeared on the dashboard, the toes smudging the otherwise pristine glass of the windshield. “Nice.”

Derek tilted his head to the side, letting each vertebra pop into place one by one. It should have brought him relief, but only served to buy time while he fought the urge to tear off Stiles shoes. He closed his eyes, letting himself imagine throwing the worn sneakers out of the car along with all of Stiles’ clothing. Naked is how he should be right now. Laid bare and trembling with the need to be touched. Derek shook his head and opening his eyes. He needed to keep himself under control or someone could get hurt.

“I was checking on the pack,” he finally replied with a growl, hating that he felt the need to defend his actions to Stiles of all people. As if the kid knows the first thing about the responsibility that rests on Derek’s shoulders. Like this is anything more than a game for Stiles. A very dangerous game that will very likely get him killed.

“Checking up on me, more like.” Stiles drops his feet the floorboard and groans. “Newsflash, I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, you need a healthy sense of self preservation.” Derek snapped, tearing off his sunglasses and throwing them down to glare at Stiles. “Between tracking the Alpha pack, keeping my pack in line and trying to work with Scott, I don’t have time to keep you out of trouble.”

“Who asked you to?” Stiles shouted, practically kicking open the passenger door and slamming it closed behind him.

“Fuck!” This was why they didn’t talk. It only fucked everything up. They were better at everything else, but talking. 

Derek climbed out of the car and was at Stiles back within seconds. He didn’t give Stiles a chance to argue or fight. Instead he turned him around, and kissed those soft, thin lips that he’d been dreaming about ever since he left town. 

Stiles relented the instant their lips met, like he needed this as much as Derek did. God, if only it were true. Derek wanted to not be the only desperate one, wished that the need went both ways. Then maybe he wouldn’t feel like he was taking advantage of the kid. 

Hands claw at his chest, grasping his t-shirt and stretching it in different directions. Stiles is so frantic and uncoordinated when he’d turned on. Derek finds it unbelievably endearing and sexy. This young, razor sharp kid turned so clumsy and horny mess whenever they touched. His blunt teeth tugged on Derek’s bottom lip, making him smile.

A low rumbling growl reverberated through Derek’s chest, startling Stiles who jerked backward. His expression a mixture of shock, wonder and pride. He was still not used to how he affected Derek, but he recovered quickly. The corner of his mouth pulled up, showing his teeth in a smirk that was all youth and cocky attitude. Derek caught Stiles under his arms, lifting him off the ground and shoving him up against the trunk of a tree. 

“Son of a bitch!” Stiles cried out, and laughed loudly as a shower of pine needles rained down over them. “What is it with you and throwing me against shit?” 

“I like the way you smell when you’re startled and scared.” The truth slipped out before Derek could think to hold it back, but Stiles only laughed louder. 

“Werewolves.” Stiles pulled him back into a kiss and Derek forgot to worry about anything other than the taste of his lover.

They tangled together, tongues and limbs entwined. Derek’s fingers finding their way into Stiles’ hair, gently tugging at the new, longer locks. He could feel Stiles smiling against his lips and had to speak.

“Is this for me?” It was a silly question, he didn’t believe Stiles ridiculous story from earlier, this change was about Derek.

“Maybe.” Stiles grinned, and groaned as Derek tugged a little harder on his hair and began to kiss along the length of his exposed neck.

One of their first conversations via text message had been about hair and how Derek liked to have something to hold on to during sex, especially while receiving oral sex. Stiles had joked about get extensions so he could wear his hair in pigtails. Derek had replied with a joke about Stiles getting a boob job while he was at it and the conversation had turned toward Stiles potential career as a drag queen.

Derek didn’t think about it again until Stiles showed up at Scott’s house with a messy mop of hair that was just the right length for Derek to get a good grip on it. The sight had made Derek hard and angry. It was a tease. Another way that Stiles taunted him with their secret. 

Now, with Stiles pressed against his body and his silky hair in Derek’s fist, everything else melted away. Derek didn’t care about the pack, the threat of the alpha pack or even the hollow ache in the center of his chest. 

In this moment all that mattered was the giggling, squirming smart ass under his lips.

Maybe Derek was right. He doesn’t have any sense of self preservation. What else would explain the werewolf attached to his face?

Not that Stiles gave a single fuck about it. He loved this, every single bit of it. Derek had worked Stiles’ t-shirt over his head, and had it slung behind his head. Effectively trapping Stiles’ arms, and allowing Derek to explore his bare chest with his lips and tongue. Holy premature ejeculation, Batman. Stiles was laughing again, though he wasn’t sure if it was at snuffling, dog-like sound Derek was making or at his own bizarre thoughts. 

If he were smart he would be afraid. He would be putting as much distance between himself and Derek as possible. His father had told him countless times “the smartest people make the dumbest mistakes because they don’t know their limitations.”

Stiles was sure he knew his limitations. They were getting beat down by old men and paralyzed by Jackson’s lizard spit. This was different. He was pretty sure of that or so he kept telling himself. 

Not that it mattered. Even if this was the most dangerous thing in the world, nothing and no one was going to keep him away from Derek. Not a chance. 

Speaking of Derek, he was in the process of unbuckled Stiles’ belt...with his teeth. Mayday, mayday! We’re losing cabin pressure. He’s going down!

“You know all this laughter kind of ruins the mood.” Derek mumbled around a mouthful Stiles’ belt.

“You know it’s bad manners to talk with your mouth full.” Stiles smirked, despite the fact that he could feel Derek’s hand squeezing his dick through the thick denim of his jeans. 

Derek pull the belt from his mouth tossed it to the ground and yanked Stiles’ pants and boxers down to his knees. “Make sure to remember that later, when my dick in your mouth.”

Stiles had the perfect comeback all lined up, but it evaporated when Derek dragged his tongue over his balls. His eyes roll into the back of his head, while he fought to not swallow his own tongue. It was so hard to be a smartass while someone was licking your scrotum. 

Derek’s face was in there, nose nudging against Stiles’ sack, while his strong hands shoved at his legs apart. Stiles was off balance, weight suspended between the tree at his back and the powerful hands on his thighs. He made a strangled squawk, arms flailing in their t-shirt prison and wished they had a better place to go. Like a bedroom or even the tiny back seat of Derek’s ridiculously small sports car. 

“You sound like a duck,” Derek laughed, his breath bathing the tip of Stiles’ cock.

“You’re a di-” Stiles choked on the insult, cut short by the feel of Derek’s mouth covering his dick. 

Heat. Tight, friction that sent sparks up his spine. His balls contracted and he felt tears leak from the corners of his eyes. Fucking god, Derek knew how to give a world class blowjob. Fucking jerk!

Stiles’ short breaths and the wet sounds of Derek’s mouth on his dick filled the air around them. It was awkward, uncomfortable and possibly the best sex of his life. The thought should make him embarrassed, but there was no room for things like coherent thought or self reflection when Derek was growling around his cock.

The vibrations intensified the pleasurable sensations already surging through Stiles’ dick. He was not going to last long. Not that he ever did when Derek was sucking his dick. Fucker knew he was good and liked to show off. 

Stiles came with a strangled groan, while cursing Derek in his head and thrusting his hips into the smiling werewolf's mouth. It was criminal how sexy he looked, lips red from the friction, stretched tight over Stiles’ dick. His eyes fixed on Stiles’ face, making him feel like there was a great weight was pressing down on his chest. 

Something about that look was addictive. Stiles couldn’t get enough of it. Wanted Derek’s eyes on him all the time. That was part of why he didn’t cut his hair, why he was always fucking with Derek. He wanted his attention, every single moment they were together. 

Stiles liked the way it felt. Liked that he had power over Derek. Even though he was just a puny human.

Derek set his feet back on the ground, rose up to help pull Stiles’s pants back up and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. His eyes were still on Stiles, but the expression on his face changed. The pride and lust were gone, leaving behind a mixture of concern and guilt. 

“Stop it.” Stiles pulled his shirt back over his head and buttoned his pants. He hated it when Derek did this, ruined the fun by getting all guilty and acting like a “responsible adult.” Ugh!

“Can’t help it.” Derek closed his eyes and shook his head. “We both know this isn’t right.”

“Fuck that,” Stiles groaned and let go of Derek’s shirt. “I’m not a kid.”

“In the eyes of the law you are and I am-” He didn’t let Derek finish his tired old lecture.

“A lot older than you look, I know.” Stiles squirmed out from between Derek and the tree. “You’re also a werewolf and magic is real. So stop turning this into some mundane, after school special bullshit.”

Derek caught him be the bicep and pulled him back so they faced each other. “I’m trying to do what’s right, for you.”

“I’m not your responsibility.” Stiles yanked his arm free and wished he could muster the strength and balls to punch Derek.

“The hell you’re not.” Derek stepped into Stiles’s space, bringing them so close their chest bumped. “This may only be a game to you, but what we’ve done...I’ve brought you deeper into my life. That is a dangerous for you to be. Not mention how your father might react if he found out about us.”

“Dude, don’t talk about my dad. My dick was just in your mouth.” Stiles tried to defuse the truth of Derek’s words with humor. He didn’t want to think about the reality, the magical werewolf shit was so much less scary than the idea of his father’s possible horror or disappointment at discovering his son is... 

Well, Stiles wasn’t sure what he was, but he was fucking another guy and that at least made him not straight. Fuck! He was not going to do this shit, not right now.

“This has to stop.” Derek slid his hand around the back of Stiles, neck and pulled him closer so their foreheads pressed together. 

“You want to stop?” Stiles closed his eyes, not wanted to whatever truth was in Derek’s face. Preferring to accept whatever lies Derek had for him. Lies were easy.

“No, but I need to know you’re safe.” He sounded so sincere, Stiles almost didn’t want to believe it. 

Which was just stupid. This was a game. Two guys fucking around, nothing more. Derek was right, it was time they stopped before something fucked up happened. Which was even more stupid, because it already happened. While Derek was too much of a pussy to admit it, Stiles could see it now and he wasn’t about to let it slide.

“And you think that staying away from you and the pack is going to keep me safe?” Stiles stepped back, and glared at Derek’s resigned expression. “That is about the dumbest thing I have ever heard.”

Derek jerked back, rage overtaking his face, but Stiles spoke before he could. “No. Really think about it, Derek. I can handle my dad, trust me. So any real danger that I would be in would be related to you and the pack. So how in the fuck am I supposed to stay safe from freaky werewolf shit when the only person who can protect me won’t come near me?” 

He was in Derek’s face, his index finger digging in the stunned werewolf’s chest. Stiles kind of loved it when Derek was speechless. He got this really cute expression on his face, like he’d taken a bite of a shit sandwich, but couldn’t figure out how to spit it out. 

“Like it or not, we’re in this and there is no getting out.” Stiles took a step back and gestured to Derek’s car. “Now, I’m going try to get comfortable in the matchbox of a back seat. If you’re interested in a getting a receprical blow job feel free to join me.”

Stiles walked back to the car, slipped into the back seat and slammed the door. He had no doubt he wouldn’t be alone for long. Derek could never resist a blow job, especially now that Stiles hair was the perfect length for tugging.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Hope for helping me with this and squeeing with me on Tumblr.


End file.
